New Year
by Dragon's Daughter 1980
Summary: They've seen seven years of New Year's Eves in Time Square.


New Year

Author: Dragon's Daughter 1980

Pairing: Bobby/Alex

Disclaimer: NBC and Mr. Wolf have complete ownership over the Law & Order shows. That being said, I'm just borrowing the cast for my own enjoyment and I promise to return all characters unharmed.

Author's Note: This piece was written right after our city's New Year celebrations this morning. The idea, I believe, comes from reading too many New Year's Day BA fics. Not that I mind. Please, enjoy. I wish you all a prosperous and joyous New Year!

* * *

It's the middle of winter for crying-out-loud, but there she is, dressed in a white silk gown, drawing appreciative glances from far too many males in the room. It's the Mayor's fault, he decides. Or not. He does like the way she looks tonight. It's nice to see her relaxed, a bit, and looking girly.

He blinks, realizing his word choice.

He did _not_ just use the word 'girly' to describe his partner, did he? Crap. He did. He silently breathes a sigh of relief that he didn't say it aloud. That would have most certainly earned him a week of paperwork, at least. There is nothing wrong with her being girly, or not; he just rarely sees that side of her that floors him every time she puts on a dress. He feels slightly guilty, knowing that she had probably planned to spend tonight with her sister's family; instead, she's stuck here, with him, at a stuffy political ball, all because the Mayor decided it would be nice for the PD to have a politically-correct celebration of the holiday season.

But trust her to not let even politicians ruin the evening. She takes his hand and drags him — not completely unwillingly — outside onto the darkened balcony, just before the countdown begins. He enjoys the fact that she's leaning against him for warmth, but he takes off his coat and drapes it across her shoulders to keep her warm. She gives him a grateful look, but there is an amused smile playing on her lips, teasing him for his chivalry. He doesn't mind.

In the darkness lightened by the fireworks, there are moments when he believes he can see the angel halo that's floating above her head. But then she looks up at him with that impish grin of hers and he knows for sure that she has too much of that Irish fire to ever reach sainthood — at least, officially. He doesn't mind. She's perfect the way she is.

* * *

He watches her childlike amazement and he smiles at her unbridled joy as they watch the fireworks explode above them. There isn't much happiness in the world they both work in, so he takes every chances he gets and treasures every moment he has with her. She rests her head on his shoulder and he can smell the soft lavender scent of her soap.

"Happy New Year's," he says quietly.

"Happy New Year's," she sighs back, content. He notices their captain watching them closely in the darkness. The older man smiles and returns his attention to his wife. He takes it as silent approval from their boss to carry on.

* * *

"I love you," he says softly. She turns to him and smiles.

"What took you so long?" she asks, just before she pulls him down to her height so they can kiss. And a tradition is born.

* * *

He drops onto one knee and takes her hand. She looks at him, half-amused and half-bemused by his actions.

"Alexandra Eames, will you marry me?"

As shouts of "Happy New Year" echo around them and the masses begin to sing "Auld Lang Syne" to bid farewell to the past, she says "Yes" to the future, to their future, together.

* * *

"Where's the screwdriver?" he asks. When she bends over to pick it up, he snaps sharply, "No!"

She rolls her eyes and picks up the tool anyway, handing it to him.

"I'm not made of glass you know," she tells him, her tone semi-sharp. He sighs, apologetic as he puts down the tool, stands up, and picks his way through the disassembled baby crib to her side.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, "I know that. I just…"

"Relax," she reassures him, "the doctor says that our baby's healthy. I'll be going on desk duty soon. Nothing's going to happen to us."

"I know," he murmurs, pulling her close, needing the physical reassurance of her presence. "I know. But I'm still scared anyway."

"That's normal," she tells him. He gives her an amused look and she smiles. They both know that neither of them quite fit the definition of 'normal.' In the next room, they hear the TV announcers eagerly counting down the seconds before the ball drops in the Square.

"I love you."

"I love you both."

Next year, they will not be alone.

* * *

Unfortunately, crime doesn't stop, not even for New Year's. They have to drop a cranky daughter off with a neighbor before heading out into the traffic-congested night. Before they get out of the car at yet another crime scene, he leans over and kisses her. They ignore the startled looks from the uniforms.

"Happy New Year," he tells her. She smiles back.

"Not so for our suspects," she tosses back as she gets out of their car. He chuckles as he follows her lead.

* * *

She smiles at him as the ball drops on New Year's morning in Times Square. Even from here, the rooftop of One PP, they can hear the cheers of the crowd. He returns it with one of his own, the relaxed grin of pure happiness that melts her every time she sees it, because she knows she's the one who put it there.

"Happy New Year," she whispers, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Happy New Year," he says quietly back, shifting the precious bundle in his arms. His wife's hand drops away as their attention turns to the child. Their little girl mumbles something into her father's shoulder before settling back to sleep, bundled in layers of warm blankets against the winter's chill. Her proud parents watch her slumber peacefully, the angel of innocence, secure in her father's arms.

He leans down carefully and kisses his wife on the lips, a tradition he has not broken for years. They break apart reluctantly, partially for air and partially because their little one is making the fussing noises two-year olds make when they do _not_ want to be woken up. The young family lingers awhile on the rooftop, listening to the revelry that is taking place below. For once, his mind is not on what might be taking place in the back alleys of the streets, what laws are being broken, what possible crimes he and his wife will be called to solve tomorrow. No. Tonight, in this moment, all that matters is the woman who leans against him for warmth as he leans against her for love, and their child, a gift from above. Whatever the year brings him, he is sure, at least, he will have some joy and peace in his world.

And that, is all he ever wanted.


End file.
